Border Defense
by Jackyblu
Summary: Wilson tries to teach House about boundries and lines that shouldn't be crossed by respectful roommates. Hilson humor.


'**Border Defense'**

(A humorous Hilson created for the PPTH Conference room 'one-shot' challenge.)

By Jackyblu

James Wilson rolled over looking at the clock. He moaned and pulled the pillow over his head.

_Not again!_

This was the third day in a row and it was praying on his sanity.

It wasn't that it was terrible. It was very good in fact. Just not at this hour of the morning. He pulled the pillow off his head and looked at the clock. He would have to be up in an hour and a half.

Wilson rubbed his hand over his face.

_No. I'm staying put. I'm comfortable and warm. If I can't sleep I can at least rest. _

He rolled over and closed his eyes. He tried to clear his mind. He was thinking of a blank screen. Then he thought of water flowing in a brook. A lake surrounded by trees. The ocean breaking on the shore. Peace. Quiet. Water.

The bathroom.

_Damn it!_

Wilson threw off the covers and sat up. He slid his legs out of bed and to the floor. He staggered the few steps to his bathroom and the toilet. On passing the bathtub he glanced over and noticed a bath brush. He used the toilet, washed his hands and returned to the bedroom.

Wilson looked at the clock. He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. He left his room going straight for the kitchen. Upon arriving he reached up to a cupboard and took out a mug. He saw fresh coffee in the carafe and poured himself some. Taking a drink he addressed the living room.

"Didn't we have a talk about that last night?"

Music continued to come from the instrument across the room.

"It's not that I object to your playing."

The music continued.

"I like Baba O'Riley."

The music was reaching a crescendo.

"I just prefer not to be awakened at five in the morning," Wilson called raising his voice over the rock anthem.

The man at the organ was playing with his eyes closed. His fingers flew across the keys, his foot on the pedals. He was wearing pajama pants and a wrinkled blue t-shirt.

"House!"

The man with the scruffy beard and bright blue eyes turned his head to look at his friend.

"Couldn't sleep," he called back.

"I guessed that. I thought you said you were going to read."

"I did but it turns out that music is more therapeutic. Why do you think we had a piano at Mayfield?" House shouted.

He reached the last part of the song. He punched a button changing the organ to the sound of a violin. He played the solo his fingers nearly a blur.

It was amazing. Wilson was enjoying it in spite of himself.

House reached the end. He got to his feet and took a bow.

"No no. Please don't applaud. Just throw money."

House picked up his cane and limped to the kitchen. Wilson followed.

"Look I get that your leg hurts and you can't sleep. But you told me last night you would find something quieter to do to distract yourself."

"Mm hmm," House responded getting his mug from the dishwasher. He limped to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

"And you said you'd empty the dishwasher," Wilson said indicating it with his hand.

House went to a cupboard and pulled out a bag of bagels.

"Those are mine."

House put one in his mouth,

"What?" he said thickly.

"Uuhh!" Wilson growled in frustration.

"Problem?" House asked innocently.

"Yes there's a problem. You have no boundaries."

"Well of course not. I'm not Germany you know," House said taking another bite of bagel. He limped to the refrigerator. "Do we have any cream cheese?"

"You'd know if you ever did the shopping," Wilson answered, one hand on his hip.

House peeked at him from behind the open refrigerator door.

"So you're saying we don't."

"I'm saying it would be nice if you took on some of the responsibility here."

House looked hurt.

"I do some of the cooking."

"Yes but only because you now enjoy cooking. You never do the dishes."

House took another bite and chewed.

"You insist the dishes be washed _before_ they go into the dishwasher."

Wilson looked as if House had said something absurd like the Cubs would win the pennant.

"Of course you wash them before putting them in."

House squinted at him.

"Then the purpose of the dishwasher would be…?"

"To sanitize them."

"Right," House said slowly.

"If you don't get the food off them then it ends up in the washer."

"That's bad?"

"That's bad."

House scratched under his chin.

"So wash the dishes before washing the dishes."

"Yes."

"Then load the dishwasher."

Wilson walked over to get more coffee.

"And since we are talking about the dishwasher…"

"I don't load it right?"

"You don't load it right."

Wilson walked over and opened the dishwasher door.

"See glasses here, bowls go down here and they are placed facing in. The water can't reach them if they're faced out. The plates don't go over there. You have to place them like this in the rack. The cutlery is fine but it has to be standing up. See? The water can't get to the tines in the forks if they're upside down."

House leaned against the sink and drank his coffee. He rubbed his right thigh.

Wilson closed the washer door again. He looked at House and then noticed that the refrigerator door wasn't completely closed. He closed it sighing.

"You need to check that the door is closed. What if it had been open all day while we were at work? It would have raised the temperature as much as five degrees. That isn't optimal for perishable food."

House took a drink from his mug,

"Isn't all food perishable? Especially meat. Didn't it have to perish to _be_ meat?"

"You know what I mean."

"Okay. I'll check the refrigerator door. Happy?"

"And about the milk…"

"Whoa! I don't place it in the door."

"But you do drink straight from the carton and I won't even get into how unsanitary that is."

"Eww. Cooties," House squeaked.

Wilson looked at him, his mouth tight.

"And…"

House raised his head, his eyes wide.

"There's more?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to use my bathroom any more?"

"Well you're against me peeing in the sink."

"The bathtub," Wilson said patiently.

"I never pee in the bathtub. Well just that once."

"House you said you would use your own bathroom."

"Everybody lies."

Wilson threw up his hand.

"I don't know what I was thinking having you live with me," he said angrily.

House quietly considered his friend. When he spoke it was in a serious and sincere way.

"You had me live with you because you are a true friend. When I got out of Mayfield Dr. Nolan told you I would need help. And there you were. Good old reliable Wilson. I would have been lost without you."

Wilson looked at House. He couldn't say a word. It wasn't often that House told him what he meant to him.

"I know I can be a jerk. I don't wash the dishes or put them away. I don't load the dishwasher the way you would like."

Wilson shrugged slightly.

"I know I wake you up with my playing. I take baths in your bathtub. I'm really not trying to annoy you. I'm not trying to get myself thrown out of your place. I'm trying to deal with this pain without resorting to vicodin again."

Wilson looked at his eyes.

"I don't have to explain my pain to you. You've been there through it all. That's something I count on. You're being there when I need you. I know I don't always reciprocate. That's the jerk in me again. But I appreciate your friendship more than I could ever show you."

House opened his arms wide.

Wilson was stunned.

"Come on big guy. Give me a hug."

Wilson stood there frozen to the spot. His eyes were nearly popping out. He had lost the power of speech.

"Oh come on. A little hug won't kill you," House wheedled.

Wilson walked forward and stood in front of House. He looked sheepish. He raised his hands.

"You have got to be kidding if you thought I would believe any of that crap," he snorted a sarcastic little smile on his face.

House gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"I thought I sounded sincere and earnest."

"You over sold it a bit."

"Really?"

"And a hug?" Wilson nearly laughed.

"Too much?"

"Well yeah," Wilson said derisively.

"I wasn't kidding about my leg. Seriously it does hurt."

"I know. Why do you think I haven't killed you for waking me up at five the last three mornings?"

"I assumed it was because deep deep down you really love me."

"No it's because I'm not going to prison over you."

"There is that," House admitted.

Wilson held both his hands in front of him.

"Look, I know the hot water makes your leg feel better. I can deal with that. All I ask is that you use it when I'm not in the bedroom. That you pick up your towel when you're done. That you don't go through the place naked," Wilson pointed at House. "Especially _not_ naked! And you rinse the tub when you're done. Those are the rules."

"I may have trouble remembering all those. Is there a book or something?" House said grumpily shaking his head.

"Just a little common courtesy, that's all I ask."

"Yes dear," House answered rolling his eyes. He limped over to the cupboard, took out the bag of bagels and helped himself to another.

Wilson pointed.

"That is exactly what I'm talking about! You never think about anyone other than yourself."

"Yes I do."

"Who?"

"Cuddy. I was thinking about her just last night while I was lying in bed getting better acquainted with my right hand."

Wilson made a face that resembled a child who had bitten a lemon.

"TMI."

"OCD," House countered.

Wilson took the bagel from House's hand and bit into it himself.

"I licked that."

"You've had your shots," he said taking another bite.

"So can I use the bathtub?"

"After me. I have to get ready for work."

"So do I."

"Tough. You want to take a bath you do it after me. If you're in a hurry your bathroom is down the hall."

"My leg hurts," House said looking pitiful.

"Don't care."

"Now who's a jerk?" House grumbled.

Wilson shot him a dirty look. House put up his hands.

"Okay it's your bathroom and I need to respect that," House said nodding.

"Yes you do. Put a heating pad on your leg. I'll be done in twenty minutes."

Wilson took his mug and bagel and headed for his bathroom.

House took the last bagel from the bag. He left the bag on the sink instead of throwing it away. He crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. He took a long drink from the carton.

Wilson put his mug and remaining bagel on a Kleenex on his dresser. He pulled fresh underwear out of his drawer and went into the bathroom. He was about to turn the water on in the tub when he saw a towel at the bottom along with a bottle of shampoo. The bath brush was sitting on the side of the tub.

Wilson went to his bedroom door.

"House! Come get your stuff out of the tub!"

House limped into the bedroom. Wilson fixed him with a look.

"This is exactly what I mean. You have no respect for anyone but yourself."

House looked contrite.

"You're right. I'm thoughtless. It's my defining characteristic. I promise to be less of a jerk. Okay?"

Wilson nodded.

"I appreciate that. Now go get your stuff."

House limped into the bathroom.

Wilson walked to his closet and pulled out slacks and a shirt.

The bathroom door closed softly and there was a tiny click. The sound of running water could be heard.

Wilson dropped the clothes on the bed and hurried to the bathroom door. It was locked.

Inside a baritone voice began singing.

"You can't always get what you want."

Wilson pounded on the door.

"House get out of my bathroom!"

"Sorry can't come to the door right now I'm in the bath."

"I thought you promised not to be a jerk!"

"Wilson there is only one indisputable truth in the world."

Wilson rested his head against the bathroom door.

"Everybody lies," Wilson said wearily.

"A man's bathroom is his kingdom. But you have to remember to guard its borders against enemy invasion."

James Wilson walked from the bedroom. He left the loft. When he returned he had a wrench.

Two minutes later the hot water ceased to flow.

A yowl came from the bathroom.

Wilson sat in the living room, a smug little smile on his face.

"Borders defended."

End


End file.
